


Don't Screw This Up

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Crush, Crush at First Sight, Fluff, M/M, mechanic Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Kurt's working as a mechanic in his dad's garage and Blaine keeps faking car trouble just to see him (like "my car's making these noises!" "Mr. Anderson, that's just the engine." Or he snaps off his own rearview mirror so Kurt can reattach it.) He'd really like to ask Kurt out but is afraid he'll say no, and he also doesn't want to ask him in his work place. Up to filler whether Blaine eventually gets his shit together or Kurt has enough and leaves his cell number somewhere for Blaine to find.





	

The first time Blaine pushes his car through the gates of Hummel’s Tire and Lube garage, Pavarotti really is in trouble.

The  [ yellow Beetle ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/97/10/5f/97105ff86c062e7f76a32a5b5ab60092.jpg) is wheezing and smoking--and it happened out of nowhere!

“Excuse me?”

Blaine hears the mechanic’s voice before he sees him--pushing the car as he is--but it gets his attention immediately.

Not the type of voice Blaine would place in a garage, but he’ll gladly take it if they can heal poor Pavarotti.

“You seem to be in trouble, sir,” the mechanic says, this time standing right next to Blaine.

Boy, what a sight to behold. Blaine actually has to drag his eyes up (and up and up) the man’s body to reach his face.

_ Oh wow. _

“Sir?”

_ Oh right. _ “Hi!” Blaine exclaims, straightening up. “Yes! Hi.”

The mechanic smiles down at him and reaches to shake Blaine’s hand. “Hi. Welcome to Hummel’s Tire and Lube.”

“Hi,” Blaine says, wincing a little bit as he realizes that it’s only the third time he said that. “I’m Blaine--Anderson.”

“Kurt Hummel.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“How are you doing today?”

Blaine takes a deep breath, and somehow, it comes out making the same noise his car has been producing for the past couple of hours.

“I am doing just peachy,” he replies, patting the roof of his car. “Pavarotti, on the other hand …”

“Pavarotti?”

Blaine knocks his knuckles against the car again and beams at his mechanic.

“Interesting name,” Kurt comments, but he’s still smiling--and he’s not looking at Blaine like he’s a complete deranged person, so there’s that. “The smoke and the rumbling, I assume, is a concern?”

“A bit,” Blaine replies, and before he can think about asking for things like an estimated price for the repair, his words get stuck in his throat.

Because Kurt just popped the hood opened and he’s bending over to look into the engines.

And that’s when Blaine knows, without a shred of a doubt, that his car is unfortunately going to have to be his wingman for the foreseeable future.

\---

“Mr. Anderson!”

Blaine does his best approximation of a contrite smile. “Good afternoon, Kurt.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you,” Kurt says, and the unsaid ‘again’ rings between them, “but why do you abuse your car so much?”

Blaine opens wide eyes. “I am not abusing my car!” He exclaims. “It’s this … bird, that just flew into my rearview mirror, completely unhinged I’m telling you!”

Kurt looks at the poor mirror and holds it up gingerly. “Was that bird an eagle or a crow?” He asks, raising one eyebrow at Blaine.

_ Jesus on a monocycle, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. _

“It was a fairly big bird, yes.”

_ And I’m a fairly big liar. _

“Uh-huh,” Kurt says, clearly unconvinced.

“Is it--can you fix it?”

Kurt focuses again on the car and the dangling mirror and shrugs. “Sure--should be fixed in about an hour or two, if you want to--”

“I could get some coffee,” Blaine rushes to say. “There is a coffee place around the corner, I will get some coffee, do you want me to bring you something, I will bring you something…”

A small smile graces Kurt’s lips and he nods. “A Mocha sounds delicious, thank you.”

Blaine smiles back and gives Kurt a jaunty salute. “One mocha, coming right up!”

As he waits in line at the coffee shop, Blaine comes up with a thousand scenarios that would have lead to him smoothly asking Kurt out, without making it awkward, without making him feel like he has to stay nice because he’s in his workplace--

Oh God, all these scenarios are just so creepy because Kurt  _ is  _ in his workplace, and he has no way of turning Blaine down even if he wanted to …

And how conceited does Blaine sound, “even if he wanted to”, there is no sign or evidence that Kurt is in any way, shape or form interested in Blaine--for that matter, Blaine doesn’t even know if Kurt is gay! For all he knows, asking him out could end up with Kurt pulling out his wallet and showing a picture of a very cute girl with her arms around Kurt’s neck.

Or with Kurt’s fist meeting Blaine’s face.

Blaine shakes his head and pays for the two drinks, putting any idea of asking Kurt out in the trash can with the empty packets of sugar.

That doesn’t mean that Pavarotti is going to be left in peace though.

\---

“It’s just plain weird.”

Kurt has his arms crossed against his chest--and boy does it do wonders for his used shirt, with the logo barely visible (God it looks soft, Blaine would love to taste that theory)--and raises one eyebrow in Blaine’s direction. “The engine running?”

“Yes.”

“You think it’s weird that your engine is running?”

“No, of course not,” Blaine says, patting Pavarotti’s hood. “I just thought that maybe this was not the normal … sound? Of the engine?”

Kurt’s lips stretch into a smile and he quietly sighs. “Alright, let’s look at it--it’s your money after all.”

Blaine lets a small smile on his own face.

“But the engine is supposed to make that sound, just so you know.”

Oh, Blaine can hear the gentle teasing in Kurt’s voice, plain as day.

He can’t blame him, though.

\---

The fourth time Blaine goes to Kurt’s garage, it’s because Blaine’s insurance asks him to get Pavarotti a full check-up.

Maybe they are getting suspicious of all its “accidents” over the past few months, maybe it’s because the car itself was already vintage when Blaine bought it, who knows.

But Blaine leaves the keys in Kurt’s hand, and he does not spend a couple of hours trying to figure out if Kurt held his hand a beat too long, and how a man who spends his days inside engines and oil can have such soft hands.

Nor does he spend his evening with his own hands over his own body, imagining what it would feel to have Kurt’s hands instead.

Absolutely not.

… Okay so maybe a little, there isn’t a real harm in that, is it?

… Okay, maybe a little.

Blaine puts his hands over his eyes. “Eurgh, I’m a mess!” he groans before settling in for the night.

And he still needs to return to the garage in the morning to get his car back, pay Kurt--and find another place to bring his car because obviously he cannot see Kurt anymore.

\---

The next morning, Blaine goes as early as possible to the garage in the hope that as the owner, Kurt won’t be there.

The garage is pretty much empty, and Pavarotti’s bright yellow beckons Blaine to it.

No sign of Kurt, and Blaine is simultaneously relieved and … sad that he won’t get to say goodbye.

Not that he  _ wants  _ to say goodbye-- _ eurgh why is it all so complicated?! _

Blaine goes to sit behind the wheel and allows himself a minute before leaving the garage and Kurt for good.

The fact that his heart squeezes painfully in his chest at the thought of not seeing Kurt again is …

Telling, sure, but Blaine is determined to stop feeling like a creep for wishing things were different, for wanting Kurt’s--for wanting Kurt, period.

And it’s not just a sex thing, thank you very much, Blaine knows it.

He has a hopeless, ridiculous and borderline pathetic crush on his mechanic, and the best solution for everybody involved is to nip it in the bud.

Blaine looks for his keys, to start Pavarotti and drive away and drown his crush in as many donuts as he will be able to ingest before feeling sick, but they don’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

_ Shit _ .

“Looking for something?”

_ Double shit. _

Kurt is leaning on the opened window on the passenger’s side, Blaine’s  [ keys  ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/3c/4e/8c/3c4e8cb46d2bc551be9537f16067aeb3.jpg) dangling from his index finger.

“Um--yeah, that could be helpf--,” Blaine starts, already reaching for his keys when Kurt snatches them away and sits down in the passenger’s seat before Blaine can see how he did it.

“--ful.”

“Since you seem to be either very confused or very Victorian in your approach, allow me to clear a few things for the both of us,” Kurt says, voice hard as he turns his body so he can face Blaine. “One, let’s get real : half of your car’s problems are of your own making, true ?”

“Not half of them,” Blaine starts, but he recoils in the heat of Kurt’s glare. “Maybe two-third of it, fine.”

“Good.” Kurt’s coldness somehow melts away, and a small, satisfied smile makes an appearance. “Two, you did it because you wanted to see me, not just because you’re a hooligan with too much money on his hands, true?”

“True.”

Blaine’s voice is barely above a whisper, and he hangs his head down, unable to maintain the eye contact with Kurt he’s so ashamed of himself.

Transparent as fine crystal, Cooper always said about Blaine’s feelings--he was spot-on, wasn’t he.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he continues, his heartbeat ringing in his ears, “but I won’t bother you anym--”

His words get stuck in his throat as Kurt’s hand is cupping his cheek.

The tip of his fingers-- _ oh so soft and strong at once _ \--applies a pressure to Blaine’s chin, making him look up and back at Kurt. “Did I say that I minded?” Kurt asks softly, and there is so much vulnerability in his smile, suddenly, that Blaine’s heart takes a pause with him.

_ Oh. _

_ You were  _ there _ all along _ .

“Now,” Kurt continues, his hand finding its place around Blaine’s face, his fingers idly playing with Blaine’s finest hair in an agonizingly teasing fashion, “I have an offer for you.”

“Hm?”

Kurt’s smile widens, and he scoots closer to Blaine, hindered by the car’s low roof.

“You stop abusing your poor car, and you only come to the garage when there is an actual mechanical problem,” Kurt says, sliding his hand to lightly cup Blaine’s neck, firmly but gently pulling him closer, “and you and I will test the durability of your dampers.”

Kurt’s face is now close enough that Blaine can count the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

“That sounds like a very good d-deal,” he replies in a murmur, turning his head to press his lips to Kurt’s.

“One of a kind,” Kurt mumbles against his mouth, before kissing him again.

And again.

And again.

\---

_ A year later _

Kurt checks his hair in the rearview mirror of the Pontiac waiting for a new coat of paint in the garage.

In the entire year, Blaine held his word, only bringing Pavarotti in once.

And boy did Kurt held  _ his  _ part of the deal.

Good dampers.

“Where is he,” he grumbles, fidgeting with the lapel of his jacket. “We’re gonna be late …”

“Kurt?”

Even as annoyed as he was, Kurt can’t help but smile at the sound of Blaine’s voice calling his name.

“Where were y--,” he starts, but all he can do is open and close his mouth like a guppy at the sight before him.

Because Blaine is here alright, wearing what looks like Kurt’s own Hummel’s Tire and Lube’s shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his shoulders, and an overall folded at the waist.

He looks like a wet dream brought to life by a very pervy good witch.

Blaine winks at him and twirls a wrench expertly. “May I check your exhaust pipe?” he says, laughter in his voice, and laughter still vibrating against Kurt’s lips when he throws himself at this stupid, wonderful man.

They are late for their dinner reservation, and completely disheveled, and Kurt has never been happier.

(Until two days later, when Blaine  [ proposes ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ec/73/ba/ec73baeb68e3849be71bc2a8d9e26ac9.jpg) . But that’s another story.)


End file.
